


The Universe Won't Wait

by shakespeas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Christmas, Fireworks, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insecurities, Kinda?, M/M, Miscommunication, Mistletoe, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, Pining, Secret Santa, Skating, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Winter, broganes, figure skating, gingerbread men, holiday fic, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeas/pseuds/shakespeas
Summary: Lance steps forward, wraps his arms around Keith in a quick hug, and gets into the car, rolling the windows down. “Goodnight, Keith.” And then he’s gone.Keith lingers by the doorway, bringing a hand up to gently touch his mouth. He doesn’t remember smiling this wide in years. As he unlocks the door and makes his way up the crumbling stairs to his apartment, Lance saying“Goodnight, Keith”and the beautiful look in his eyes is the only thing on Keith’s mind.He is so far gone.If a series of unfortunate events land Keith in the apartment of a boy with ocean eyes, are they unfortunate events at all? Caught up in the magic of the holiday season, Keith can’t help but be pulled into the whirlwind that is Lance McClain, who makes him question his entire definition of the word ‘love’.





	The Universe Won't Wait

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i have resurfaced from the void yet again to deliver another fanfiction (holiday style). i hope you stick with it because i worked very hard on it and i hope you feel the same love towards it that i do.
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> EDIT 12/29/18: the amazing [missydawnx](https://missydawnx.tumblr.com/) translated this fic into [russian!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7686213)

Freezing wind howls and grabs at Keith’s hair, scarf, coat, the moment he leaves the bus. Snow races towards the ground, swirling around Keith as he trudges towards his destination, head bowed against the chill. The ebony-haired boy burrows his face into the thick red scarf wrapped around his neck and stuffs his bare hands into his pockets, already shivering. 

The apartment complex that Keith is headed towards looms above him, blurred by the snow. Keith tries to remember the information that Shiro had told him over the phone only a few days back. _“I’m taking a break from studying abroad and will be in town for the whole month! I’m staying with Curtis in his apartment,”_ his older brother had announced. That much is clear in Keith’s mind. The rest, the actual details, are buried far into the recesses of his brain. Keith finds himself wishing for the umpteenth time that he’d written the info down. He only hopes he isn’t late as he arrives at the front door of the apartment building. A panel is set into the wall by the glass door with a keypad and a screen that merrily reads: _Welcome to The Atlas! Enter resident’s code to ring buzzer._

Keith’s brain stops. He stares at the numbers on the keypad blankly for what feels like years. A snippet of his conversation with his brother suddenly rushes back. _“You’ll have to buzz Curtis’ apartment when you get there. We’ll let you in. The code is…”_ Keith scrunches his eyes shut, trying to remember.

_“The code is…”_

Keith decides, _Fuck it,_ and punches in his best guess. His fingers are too numb to pull his phone out and text Shiro, so he settles for luck instead. After a few painstaking rings someone picks up, and Keith knows right away that he screwed up the moment the person on the other end of the line speaks. 

“Hello, Lance McClain speaking!” A peppy voice crackles over the speakers in the wall. It’s lively and charming and most certainly not Shiro’s. Keith blanches. 

“Uh, hi.” He pauses. “I’m Keith.” He immediately wants to kick himself.

“Ah… alright? It’s nice to meet you, Keith,” the voice-Lance-replies hesitantly. “How can I help you?” 

“I need to get in,” Keith blurts out, suddenly hyperaware of the December air that’s found its way past his scarf and into his bones. “I-I was supposed to see my brother today but I forgot the resident code. Could you, maybe-?” Keith breaks off, teeth chattering too hard for him to continue.

“You do realize that you sound like you’re trying to break into the building, right?” Lance questions solemnly, but Keith can almost hear a teasing note in his tone. 

“I kn-know,” Keith huffs. “Fine. Can you c-come down here and get me, then? That way you’ll see me and know I’m n-not here to steal your furniture or something?”

Lance breathes out a short laugh. “What difference does that make?” He questions. “Appearances are deceiving. Also, how do I know that you won’t shoot me the moment I step out of this elevator?” 

Keith rolls his eyes, feeling slightly miffed. “Look, I just want to see my brother,” he replies. “Can you just t-trust me for a sec and-” Suddenly, a part of Lance’s sentence registers in Keith’s brain. “-Wait, did you say ‘ _this_ elevator’? As in, you’re currently on your way down?”

Silence on the other end. Keith’s frozen lips curl upwards in a triumphant smile right as the elevator doors in the lobby of the building open to reveal a boy looking sheepish. He steps out of the elevator warily, pocketing his phone. Then his eyes meet Keith’s through the glass and all the breath whooshes out of Keith’s lungs, because this boy is _stunning._

Umber hair curls around defined cheekbones and a smooth, caramel-coloured face. Freckles sprinkle the bridge of the boy’s nose and trail off at rosy cheeks, and clear ocean-blue eyes sparkle as they sweep over Keith. A blue and white baseball tee hugs his slender frame and an olive jacket is tied tightly around a slim waist. Light grey sweatpants seem to stretch on for miles over long, long legs. He’s barefoot. 

Keith quickly tucks his face into his scarf to hide any signs of a blush that may have appeared. His spine tingles and he can no longer tell if it’s from the cold or the boy. 

“Holy shit,” Lance says, having opened the door. Keith’s head snaps up to see that Lance is suddenly right in front of him, gazing at his face with concern. A few stray snowflakes whirl inside the building. Keith stands rooted to the ground for a moment too long before hurrying inside. Lance closes the door with a gust of cold air once they’re both inside and shudders from his head to his toes. Keith stomps the snow from his boots on the rug and shakes the cold from himself. 

“Holy shit,” Lance repeats, staring outside. “I’m so sorry I kept you waiting out there, I forgot how much it was snowing.” He shoots Keith an apologetic glance. Keith tries not to let his gaze linger too much. Before he can reply, Lance is continuing. “Anyway, Keith, was it? I may or may not be making the biggest mistake of my life by letting you in, but your lips are bordering on blue right now and my mama would kick my ass to the moon and back if I let you stand outside that way. So be grateful that it was the code of a generous and humble man that you just so happened to accidentally dial and not anyone else’s, Keith, or you’d still be out there.”

Keith suppresses a laugh at the boy’s dramatics and settles for a good-natured eye roll instead, stepping into the elevator with him. “What floor?” Lance asks. 

“Fourth,” Keith replies. He can remember that, at least. 

“Sweet, me too,” Lance grins. The doors slide shut and silence settles like a thin fog over their heads as the elevator creaks upwards at an achingly slow pace. Not even two seconds of quietness have passed before Lance breaks it. Keith listens as Lance rambles almost subconsciously about everything and nothing, and Keith is caught off-guard by how entranced he becomes with all of it. Lance’s voice is fluid, like water, and words roll off his tongue so effortlessly that Keith is almost jealous. The elevator ride ends all too soon and Keith steps into the hallway with a surprising sense of dread, because these are probably his last moments with this chipper, blue-eyed stranger before he sees Shiro again. He stares at the nape of Lance’s neck as they pace down the hallway, suddenly feeling heavy. They come to a stop at a door with a flamboyant holiday wreath hanging from it, encircling the apartment number.

“Well! This is my place,” Lance announces, turning back to Keith. “Where’s your brother’s?” Keith is so caught up in staring at those blue, blue eyes that the question registers a couple seconds late. 

“Oh-uh… he-” Keith stutters, ripping his gaze away. His eyes dart from door to door, trying to remember Curtis’ apartment number. (He’s only been there a handful of times, okay? The fact that he can’t remember the number is completely not his fault.) He hisses a curse under his breath when his mind comes up blank. 

“Lemme guess, you forget?” Lance’s voice is all too teasing as he leans in cheekily, mouth twitching in a half smile. 

Keith’s breath catches in his throat. “You got me there,” he manages to rasp, cheeks flaming. 

Lance smirks and pulls back. “Allow me to assist you, then. I know everyone in this building,” he announces, puffing out his chest dramatically. “What’s your brother’s name?” 

“W-Well, it’s actually his boyfriend who lives here. Uh… his name’s Curtis? My brother’s staying with him for the winter holidays,” Keith stutters. The boy’s eyes widen with recognition. 

“Curtis? Wait- _Shiro’s_ your brother?” The boy gapes. Keith raises a confused eyebrow. 

“Uh… yeah?”

“Holy crow! You’re _Takashi Shirogane’s_ brother! Oh my god, he’s like fucking _Adonis_ , he’s so hot. I had a massive crush on him for the longest time. I-God, I had a crush on your _brother._ That’s weird, isn’t it? This must be weird for you to hear. Shutting up now.” Lance inhales deeply, looking more than a little flushed. Keith can only stare in amazement. Something tickles at his memory. 

“Curtis mentioned you once,” Keith suddenly recalls. Lance’s entire face lights up like the star on a Christmas tree. “Weren’t you the one who forgot to put the eggs in a birthday cake you made him last year?” 

Lance’s face falls and he crosses his arms, wearing an unfairly cute pout. “So maybe that was me,” he mumbles. “But it was one time! That doesn’t-”

“-What about the time you literally _broke into_ Curtis’ apartment because you thought you left a fucking _blanket_ there, but instead walked in on him and my brother?” Keith cuts in, already grinning. “And the time you-”

“-Okay, _okay,_ I get it! I just… end up in inconvenient situations sometimes! It’s not my fault! Geez, why did Shiro _tell_ you all that?” Lance squawks, waving his hands about frantically.

Keith can’t help it. He laughs. “‘Not my fault’, my ass. You have bad fucking timing and you know it. Now can you tell me which one is Curtis’ apartment?” 

Realization dawns in Lance’s sharp features. “Wait… Curtis and Shiro left together a while ago,” he muses. “Are you sure you got the time right?” 

Frustration slices through Keith and he drags a hand down his face. A muffled jumble of sound escapes his mouth. “I fucked up so bad,” he grimaces. “Let me call Shiro.” 

Except Shiro doesn’t pick up the first time. Or the next six times. Keith finally gives up and slumps to a crouch on the ground. “Why have you forsaken me, God?” He pleads with his head against the wall, lifting his eyes skyward. Lance only guffaws at his trifles, which doesn’t help one bit, if Keith’s being honest. ~~(Despite how cute he looks when he laughs.)~~

“Guess I’m not the only one with ‘bad fucking timing’,” Lance drawls, leaning over Keith and grinning down at him. Keith merely shoots him an unimpressed look. 

“I suppose I can help you with that,” Lance replies, and then _winks._ Keith’s face flames and he hides it by squashing it into his knees. 

“Just stay with me ‘til they get back.” 

“What.” Keith blurts before he can help himself. 

Lance raises an eyebrow as if to say, _You gonna accept or not?_ “C’mon, I don’t mind. It’s a lot warmer in my place than it is out here,” Lance explains, gaze softening. He offers a hand to Keith. After a moment’s hesitation, Keith takes it and lets Lance pull him to his feet.

“Thanks,” he mumbles quietly. Lance only hums in response as he opens the door, and Keith can’t help the relief that bubbles in his chest when he realizes he doesn’t have to part with Lance’s blue, blue eyes just yet.

━━━

Lance’s apartment smells fucking _amazing._ The mouth-watering aroma of gingerbread wafts into Keith’s nose as soon as he steps in and he inhales involuntarily, savouring the smell. Lance notices and states smugly, “That’s my roommate Hunk’s doing. The cookies should be just about ready, c’mon.” With those words, Lance leads Keith around a corner and into a small kitchen, where a dark-skinned, giant of a boy wearing a yellow apron is carefully squeezing icing onto perfectly shaped gingerbread men. Hunk, Keith assumes, looks up when Lance bursts into the kitchen. 

“Oh, you’re back already!” Hunk exclaims. A wide smile stretches across his round face at the sight of Lance and he sets the icing packet down, opening his meaty arms to the blue-eyed boy. Lance complies with the silent invitation and snakes skinny arms around Hunk. Keith looks on with an unguardedly fond expression. Something about Hunk’s presence makes him feel completely at ease.

Lance breaks away with a grin, turning to Keith. “Hunk, this man is the one and only who dialled our resident code by accident! Keith, this is my roommate Hunk Garrett, who happens to be a cooking _god,_ which is pretty handy because Pidge-our other roommate-and I would probably live off nothing but instant ramen and tea without him,” Lance declares proudly. 

Hunk swivels his gaze to Keith and raises a hand in a friendly greeting. “Hey! It’s nice to meet you! I’m glad you’re not a criminal. _Lance_.” He squints at Lance accusingly. 

“Geez, I’m sorry for _protecting your fucking life._ He could’ve been anyone! How was I supposed to tell?!” Lance protests, throwing his hands in the air. 

Hunk sighs in exasperation. “Okay, but it’s also _below freezing_ temperature outside.”

“But look at his _hair!_ Does that mullet look trustworthy to you?” Lance cries. 

Keith’s hand flies up to his ebony locks. A spark ignites in his chest. “There’s nothing wrong with my hair!” He insists. “You’re literally the only person who’s immediately associated me with ‘delinquent’ just by looking at my hair.” 

Lance covers his eyes with the back of his hand, feigning devastation. “ _Well._ I seem to be the only one around here with some sense left in me!” He declares loudly. “Who wears a _mullet_ in the 21st century?!” 

Hunk merely rolls his eyes. (Keith assumes that he’s used to dramatics of this kind.) He opens his mouth, about to say something, when a different voice cuts in.

“What the _fuck’s_ going on here?”

Keith turns towards the sound and is met by a tiny figure with short caramel hair, huge round spectacles perched on a freckled nose, and the most peeved look that Keith has ever seen on a human being. They’re leaning on the doorframe with their arms crossed tightly across their chest. Rather than being put out by the newcomer’s comment, Lance only brightens more. He practically bounds to Keith’s side and throws an arm around his shoulders. Keith tries not to stiffen up too much.

“My darling Pidge, this is Keith, my new buddy!” Lance announces, pulling Keith in close. Keith’s breath lodges in his throat. Pidge merely stares at the two of them in silence. “And Keith, this is my other roommate, Pidge Gunderson! Hey, I’m surprised you actually left your room today.” 

“Uh,” Keith says eloquently. He doesn’t focus on Lance’s blue, blue eyes instead of his introduction of Pidge. Definitely not.

Pidge still hasn’t made another sound. “Good to meet you,” they finally say abruptly, nodding at Keith. Keith nods back, feeling incredibly out of place. Pidge fixes him with a last calculating stare before turning around soundlessly and shuffling out of sight. Keith feels their hazelnut eyes still boring straight into him long after they’re gone. 

“Don’t worry about Pidge, it’s just too early for them to function as a normal human being right now,” Lance explains to Keith. 

“But… it’s almost 3 pm.”

“Precisely.” Hunk nods solemnly. “Pidge won’t communicate with anyone until 3:30 pm. They’re up all night, every night, coding and doing whatever genius things they do. They’re only fifteen, y’know, but they’re in university with us.”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Wow.” 

“Yeah, Pidge’s pretty damn amazing,” Lance adds. His lips upturn in a small smile. Keith’s chest warms at the sight of Lance looking so fond. _He really cares about his friends,_ Keith thinks. He admires that.

Comfortable silence settles between the three of them as Hunk turns back to his gingerbread men and Lance clambers onto the counter to observe, motioning for Keith to follow. After a while, Hunk breaks the lull in the conversation.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but what exactly brings you to our apartment when you said you were visiting your brother, Keith?” Hunk questions curiously. 

Lance answers for Keith. “Well, he messed up the time he was supposed to arrive,” Lance drawls, grinning obnoxiously at Keith. Keith glares back. “And then he got all panicky, and was all _‘Ooh, Lance, save me from this tragedy!’,_ and what with me being the hero I am, I offered him our humble abode as a temporary place to stay.” 

Keith shoots Lance the most unimpressed glare he can manage. “I’m sure you know he’s blowing that way out of proportion,” he tells Hunk. The dark-skinned boy only sighs knowingly.

A few more moments of silence pass before Hunk straightens up suddenly. He throws the icing packet in his hand down on the counter and dusts off his hands, turning to Lance and Keith with a grin that could rival ten suns. “They’re done!” He cries. Lance screeches and lunges forward, clamouring for the first gingerbread man. Keith leans forward on his place atop the counter, unable to push away his intrigue. 

Hunk swipes the tray of cookies from under Lance’s fingers and holds it high above his head. He gives Keith a pained smile as Lance stretches to reach them. “Want one?” He asks. Keith’s eyes widen in surprise. 

“O-Oh,” he stammers, startled. “Sure, thanks.” He hops off the counter and takes a gingerbread man from the tray. He lets out a small laugh when he looks at the cookie. It’s decorated to look like Lance, with brown squiggles at the top for his hair, small blue dots for eyes, and a little olive-coloured jacket that looks almost like an exact replica of the one tied around Lance’s waist. “Hey, it’s you,” Keith laughs, showing Lance. The blue-eyed boy brings a hand to his chest, mock appall written across his features.

“You wouldn’t dare eat such a handsome gingerbread man,” he declares. Keith smirks and swiftly bites Lance’s gingerbread head clean off. Keith makes a show of chewing thoughtfully, but his joking face quickly morphs into one of amazement as the taste hits him. His eyes widen and his chewing slows. 

_“Fuck,”_ he whispers passionately through a mouthful of crumbs. “These are really fucking good.” 

Lance ceases his anguished whining to smile smugly at Keith. “Told you he was a god,” he grins. 

Keith slides off of the counter, standing face to face with Hunk, who looks unnecessarily nervous. “You’re a _genius,”_ Keith breathes, mouth full. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Hunk flushes bright red under the praise. “Oh, man. I’m just glad you like them. I’ll add your design in my next batch.” Hunk smiles warmly. Lance claps a hand on his shoulder, swiping a gingerbread man in the process and popping it whole into his mouth. 

“Aa’w you se-wious? Theh wa’ff liter’lly wo ‘eed to wo-y, Huh-k, ‘ot when you-w a w’egend,” Lance reassures clumsily. Hunk winces at the crumbs that spray from Lance’s mouth.

Pidge appears in the doorway again. “Can you guys fucking keep it down? I’m trying to sleep.” They look even more disgruntled than before.

“Hunk made gingerbread cookies!” Lance exclaims, quickly followed by a muttered, “Ah, shit. I shouldn’t have said that. ”

It’s as if someone’s turned the light switch on inside Pidge. Their face brightens and they scurry into the kitchen with a manic glint in their hazel eyes. Hunk drops the tray of gingerbread men onto the counter and backs out of the kitchen. Lance glances at Keith and grabs his wrist, pulling him away. The three of them collapse on couches in the tiny living room outside the kitchen.

“You do not wanna know they get around my gingerbread men,” Hunk breathes. “Why don’t we just play some Mario Kart while we wait for them to emerge?” 

“That bad, huh?” Keith lets himself smile a little.

Lance turns wide, horrified eyes to him. “You have no idea, man.”

━━━

Fifteen rounds of Mario Kart (Keith being the victor of all of them) and countless minutes of Lance’s Sore Loser Whining™ later, Pidge emerges from the kitchen looking much like a gingerbread man themself. Hunk takes one look at them and winces. “No offence, but you look disgusting and I am not having that in my house. Please, please, _please_ go wash that off yourself before it falls all over the ground and gets tracked everywhere.” He presses a hand to his face. “Have they gone?” He asks after a beat of silence. 

“Yeah,” Lance replies. His voice is flat and he hangs limply from the couch, hair brushing the carpet. Keith rolls his eyes at the sight, ignoring the small hiccup in his heart as he gazes at Lance. (He blames the sugar and the adrenaline that comes with annihilating Lance at Mario Kart.) 

Hunk lets out a huge breath. “If you can witness Pidge with gingerbread men and be willing to be around them afterwards, you are a true friend,” he says to Keith. Keith laughs shortly, suddenly feeling out of place; because these are people who have spent _years_ together. Lance, Pidge and Hunk have been friends from day one. Keith can tell just by how they speak to each other. Familiarity laces each of their voices, clear as day. Hell, they even lived together. And Keith is not a part of that. Keith is an outsider to this, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and was taken in by the kindness of Lance’s heart. Soon, this would be over. Shiro and Curtis will come back and Keith will leave to be with them, and he probably won’t see Lance, Hunk or Pidge for a long time, because that is always how it was. His chest suddenly feels very, very heavy. 

“Hey, you alright?” Lance’s voice snaps Keith out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m-I’m fine,” Keith stammers, avoiding what he knows is a concerned gaze from the blue-eyed boy. He wishes Shiro would come back quicker. 

As if on cue, Hunk jumps up and rushes to the window. “Didn’t you say you were waiting for Shiro and Curtis to get back?” He asks. Keith and Lance rise and join him. Keith spots two tiny figures hurrying towards the apartment building through the snow. A small white poof of hair on one of them confirms that they are, indeed, Shiro and Curtis.

“Yeah,” Keith replies, almost overwhelmed with relief. “Guess that’s them.” Part of him wants to stay in this apartment, surrounded by Lance and Hunk’s laughter and Pidge’s odd shenanigans, but the more powerful part, the part that always gets its way, just wants to be away from it all, all the chatter and noise and the people who are too much and too little at the same time. He turns to grab his coat from the couch and is momentarily caught off guard by how disappointed Lance looks. Keith only allows himself one glance before he looks away and shoves down the hope that threatens to bloom in him. _Lance isn’t disappointed. Lance is only being polite._

“Uh, I’d better get going,” Keith says stiffly, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. “Thanks for letting me stay.” Hunk waves a hand in farewell as Keith makes his way to the door. 

“I’ll walk you,” Lance says suddenly, hurrying to Keith’s side. Keith, surprised, turns to Lance, who looks considerably redder than before. Lance breathes in deeply. “Will, uh…” 

“Will you be back?”

Keith freezes. He has a hand on the doorknob, a foot out the door. He hears the elevator ding down the hallway outside and the hushed, breathy voices of his brother and Curtis.

“Yes,” he thinks he hears himself say, and then he leaves.

━━━

“Uuuuuuuuuugh,” Keith moans ten minutes later as he sags against the coffee table in Curtis’ apartment. “I’m such an _idiot.”_

Shiro offers a quick pat on Keith’s shoulder, apparently unfazed by the ebony-haired boy’s retelling of the situation when he had dialled Lance’s resident code by accident. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Shiro reassures with a quiet laugh. “They probably thought you were cool.”

Keith’s head snaps up. _“Seriously?”_ He splutters, face a perfect image of disbelief. “You really believe that _they-”_ He gestures wildly to the door. “-A 15-year-old genius, Gordon Ramsay minus the yelling, and a gorgeous, charismatic prince-would think _I’m_ cool?” 

Curtis chooses that moment to walk into the living room with a tray of coffee. “Your theatrics are bordering on Lance’s,” he observes jokingly, azure eyes glinting with mirth. “And is he this ‘gorgeous, charismatic prince’, hmm?” A single glance at his face tells that Curtis knows exactly what the answer to that is. Keith groans loudly in response.

Curtis sets the tray on the coffee table by Keith’s head. Keith grabs a mug and chugs all of its contents in one go. 

Shiro surges forward. “Keith, _no-”_

“I hope this delivers me to hell,” Keith says, and falls back onto the floor, surrounded by Shiro and Curtis’ worried shouts.

━━━

One week later Keith is fully intact and has yet to make his way into hell. He’s sprawled on the ratty couch in his ratty apartment when he gets a text from Shiro. 

_**Takashit:** We’re going skating today up at the rink that Allura’s uncle owns, you should come too! Allura’s rented out the rink just for us us so you don’t have to worry about being embarrassed :-)_

With nothing better to do, Keith decides to go. It isn’t until Keith arrives at the rink only to find _everyone_ -as in, Shiro, Curtis, Allura, Lance, Hunk and Pidge-waiting for him that he realizes his mistake.

 _“Shiro,”_ he hisses to his brother after everyone’s rented out their skates and found benches to lace them up. 

“Hmm?” Shiro turns to Keith, feigning innocence. Keith knows that look. Keith is _terrified_ of that look.

“You should’ve said that the ‘us’ in your text meant everyone! I only came because I thought it’d only be you, Curtis and Allura here, which would make things a bit more okay for me when I _fucking fall on my ass the moment I set foot in that rink!”_ Keith fumes.

“But this is a wonderful chance for you to bond with the others,” Shiro states sweetly. “I thought it might be fun for you to skate with them! Curtis, Allura and I are actually going to be in the cafe next door. We’re meeting up with her uncle and some other people who I haven’t seen since university, so we won’t even be around to witness your first time on the ice! What a shame, I guess. Oh, well.” Shiro doesn’t look the slightest bit distressed. 

Keith’s stomach drops all the way to his feet. “You wouldn’t dare leave me here,” he hisses through his teeth. _“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”_

Shiro doesn’t look fazed. “What, is something wrong?” He questions curiously. Keith only glares fiercely. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” Shiro relents, chuckling. He raises his hands in surrender. “I just thought it’d be nice for the four of you to skate together!”

“Are you kidding?” Keith yelps. “How would it be nice for us to _skate_ together when _I don’t know how to skate?!_ If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re just trying to make me look like a fool in front of them!” 

“Hey, stop worrying so much.” Shiro places a reassuring hand on Keith’s back, face softening. “Trust me when I say they won’t judge you. Everyone here had to learn to skate at some point. And… if things don’t work out, just come to the cafe and I’ll know, okay? They’re really nice people though, Keith. You’ll have fun, I promise. Just try? For me?” 

Keith sighs, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. He can never say no to Shiro. “Alright,” he replies begrudgingly. “I’ll try.” 

━━━

“You’ve _never_ been skating.” Lance stares at Keith with wide eyes. Keith shrinks under his beautiful, beautiful gaze, wishing with every fiber in his body that Shiro wasn’t off in some stupid cafe, talking and laughing with people who were much more mature and confident than Keith would ever be. 

“Uh… yeah. No. I’ve-uh-never been.” 

“You’re kidding me right now, oh my god. I would cancel our friendship right here and now but…” Lance trails off, suddenly looking awkward.

After an uncomfortable pause, Keith ventures, “You, ah… you like skating?”

“You’ve got no idea,” Lance replies, eyes glinting. “I’ve been skating ever since I could walk. I played hockey until I was eight and then switched over to figure skating. Competed in events and everything. I was a part-time instructor for kids’ skating classes throughout my first two years of university.” 

“Wow,” Keith breathes. “That’s… really amazing.” His heart gives a little jump at Lance’s excitement. 

Lance colours. “Ah-thanks,” he replies haltingly, tucking his face into the collar of his jacket. “Uh… y’know, if you wanted-I, um, wouldn’t mind showing you the basics?” 

It takes a few seconds for the question to register. “Wait, really?” Keith asks.

“Yeah, man! I don’t mind, it’ll be fun.” And then Lance offers Keith a smile so bright that it nearly blinds him. Keith lets himself be led (albeit rather clumsily) towards the entrance to the rink. “Here, grab my hand for a sec,” Lance reaches a gloved hand to Keith. 

“Okay,” Keith dazedly whispers, taking Lance’s hand. Lance smiles again before tugging Keith onto the ice in one swift motion. 

Loyal to his previous words during his conversation with Shiro, Keith skids and trips the moment his skates touch the ice. Before he even knows what’s happening, his feet fly out from under him and he’s sitting on the ice, legs sprawled out in front of him. A dazed croak escapes his lips. 

Then, laughter. A bright, mirth-filled sound that surrounds Keith and sets his face ablaze. _I should never have agreed to this,_ Keith thinks, burying his head in his hands. _Shiro was wrong. I’ve just made a fool of myself and now everyone’s going to laugh at me._

Then Keith feels a warm hand on his, prying his fingers away from his face. Keith looks up hesitantly, only to see Lance’s face mere inches above his. He’s grinning, but the gentle look in his eyes calms Keith’s doubt. “Hey,” Lance starts. “They always say to make a dramatic entrance, hm?” 

Keith has no choice but to smile at those words as Lance tugs him back to his feet. 

For the next long while Keith skids, slips and flounders on the ice while Lance holds him upright by the arms. Keith flushes bright red each time Lance’s fingers brush his, each time his grip on Keith’s arms tightens just a fraction, each time Keith staggers straight into Lance. The two of them giggle like children and stagger across the ice together as if they’ve had a little too much to drink. Keith grips Lance as if his life depends on it and he feels himself breaking away from his anxiety, even if just a little. 

“Do you think…?” Pidge questions from afar as the duo tumble to the ice, shrieking gleefully, for the umpteenth time. Beside them, Hunk nods slowly. 

A knowing smile breaks out on both of their faces.

━━━

Keith pants, gripping the rail with one hand and bracing himself on his knee with the other. “How… did you do this for most of your life?” 

Lance smirks proudly, placing both hands on his hips and puffing out his chest. “Oh, it was easy for the likes of _moi.”_

Keith huffs out a small laugh. “Sure, Lance.” His eyes flick downward, suddenly shy. “Can-Can you… show me?” 

Lance grins radiantly. “You betcha! Hold on, ‘cause you’re about to see the performance of your life.” He peels off his gloves and shoves them at Keith. “Hold these. Thanks!” Then he shoots finger guns at Keith and, with a quick wink, is off.

Keith’s eyes widen as Lance unfurls into graceful strokes as he skates away from the edge of the rink. Seeing Lance skating to the center of the ice, Pidge and Hunk make their way off the ice and now linger at the doors.

Lance comes to a slow stop in the middle of the rink and wraps both arms around himself, angling his head to the side. He looks calm, peaceful, like a swan. Have his limbs always been that long? Lance holds the starting position for a few precious seconds before he pushes into action.

The gloves fall from Keith’s slackened hands as Lance starts. He skates like he speaks, fluid fluid and effortless and entrancing. Slowly he picks up speed, switching directions and crossing his feet, gaining momentum. Keith stares as Lance leans forward, anticipating something, and Keith stares as Lance digs his toe pick into the ice, and Keith stares as Lance launches into the air in one fluent motion and _flies._ He rotates one, two, three, four times before he lands on one skate, arms outstretched. There is no music to accompany Lance’s routine, but Keith doesn’t think he’d be able to hear it even if there was any. He’s entranced by just _Lance_ and his movements, as if he’s carving a path for himself through the air as he glides on the ice. 

Keith doesn’t think about anything else for the next few minutes as he watches Lance sail across the ice. The boy’s body melts into conditioned movement after conditioned movement. His arms caress the air and his feet dance in complex, practiced patterns. He pulls himself into jumps that make him float and spins that turn him into just a whizzing blur of colour. Keith can feel the passion that rolls off him in crashing waves with every movement, and when he finally flies to a stop on one knee and arms thrown skyward, chest heaving and breath puffing out in front of him in small clouds, it’s all Keith can do not to cry.

Keith quickly swipes away the liquid that threatens to escape his eyes as Lance rises out of his pose and quickly skates over to where Keith stands. His cheeks and nose are flushed bright pink and his breath comes quickly as he glides to a stop in front of Keith. A dazzling grin stretches across his face and his eyes twinkle giddily. “What’d you think?” He asks breathlessly.

Keith doesn’t think before he’s surging forward on unsteady legs and throwing his arms around Lance’s neck. They blue-eyed boy falls backwards and Keith tumbles down with him. The two of them lay in a pile at the edge of the rink, laughing. “You were _amazing,”_ Keith breathes. Lance beams up at him and all the air leaves his lungs. 

By the doors of the rink Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Curtis and Allura all stood, watching the two of them sitting on the ice. An onlooker wouldn’t have mistaken the looks of fondness on each and every person’s face.

━━━

Keith is pulling off his skates and internally cringing at the single moment of him tackling Lance onto the ice when a voice startles him out of his trance.

“Hey…” 

Keith’s head whips up at the familiar sound and his eyes rest on Lance, already changed out of his skates and looking down at him with a small smile and rosy cheeks. His heart jumps.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering… if I could, uh, get your number?” 

Keith just about dies on the spot.

━━━

 _“Uuuuuuuuuugh,”_ Lance moans for the tenth time, throwing a hand over his eyes as he slouches on the sofa.

Hunk sighs in response again, not taking his eyes off the textbooks and papers laid out around him on the coffee table. “I know, Lance. You’ve told me nine times already.”

“I just… he’s so _good._ Every time he looks at me my heart inflates until it explodes, and I-” Lance breaks off with another groan. 

“-I guess I just like him.” 

“Enough to perform literally the hardest short program you’ve ever learned for him, apparently.” Pidge appears from the kitchen where they’ve been rummaging in the fridge for something to drink. They cock an eyebrow at Lance and he drags his hands down his face at their words, sliding even further down the couch. 

“I can’t believe I did that, okay? I messed up so much, it’s a surprise I even managed to land the quads. Gimme a break! It’s been, like, two years since I last skated that program.” 

Pidge rolls their eyes. “Even more proof that you’re really far gone for this guy.”

Lance shoots upward on the couch. “I am not-! I don’t-! It’s not _that_ bad!” 

“Are you sure?” Hunk looks wholly unimpressed. Lance slides back down, silent.

“It’s not a bad thing, y’know,” Pidge states matter-of-factly. “You got his number, right? Just ask him out or something.”

“I can’t just-!” Lance protests. The corners of his lips pull downward. “I don’t wanna get attached. He probably has a super hot girlfriend already. I mean, just…!” Lance gestures wildly. “Him! What’s not to like? He _has_ to be dating someone already.”

Hunk and Pidge share a look across the room. 

“What? Why are you looking at each other like that?” Lance demands.

Hunk and Pidge both turn their gazes to him. They open their mouths at the same time.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Lance.”

━━━

_**Unknown Number:** hey it’s lance ;P i was wondering if u wanted to go out someplace together?_

Keith is stunned into absolute silence as he reads the text once. Twice. Three times. _Am I dreaming?_ He pinches himself to make sure and winces. _Nope._ He quickly saves Lance’s number and is trying to think of something to say in reply when another message pops up.

_**Lance:** i mean not like GO OUT go out, but just as buddies_

Disappointment blooms in a very small part of Keith’s heart, but he shoves it away. It’s better this way. Safer. He can’t get too close. One outing can’t hurt though, right? Keith doesn’t want to seem like an asshole. 

_Okay. Where should I meet you?_

_**Lance:** stay right where you are. i’m coming to get you ;)_

_What?? How do you know where I am???_

Keith is offered no other explanation. He stares, bewildered, at Lance’s cryptic message for a few more seconds before he tosses it beside him onto the sofa, deciding to let whatever is happening happen. 

Soon enough, Keith’s phone buzzes again. He swipes to his messages, where a new text from Lance stares up at him.

_**Lance:** um so i just wanted to sound cool earlier i don't actually know where u are but im kinda driving aimlessly rn so i might as well just come pick you up, what's ur address?_

Keith snorts despite himself. _What a dork._ It’s so like Lance to bust out the theatrics just to invite him out somewhere. Keith is surprised at how endearing he finds it. He checks himself before the feeling spirals out of control. _No getting too close, remember?_ Keith takes a deep breath and types out his address.

_**Lance:** great, cya soon ;)_

Keith huffs out a small laugh and stands, checking his reflection in the mirror before shrugging on his coat and stepping into his Doc Martens. He fusses with his hair for a second more before feeling stupid and stepping out the door. _No getting too close._

━━━

“Where are we going?” Keith questions as he gets into Lance’s car. 

The blue-eyed boy only winks playfully at the wheel, pulling away from the sidewalk. “That’s for only me to know!”

 _I swear, this boy._ Keith crosses his arms in his seat and lets the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

Keith watches the scenery out the window melt from the city to the highway to the suburbs and finally, to an outcropping of snow-capped evergreen trees. Lance parks the car at the edge of the forest and springs out, stretching his spidery limbs with satisfaction. “Here we are!” He announces with a flourish. 

Keith climbs out after him. “Uh… the woods?” He asks hesitantly. 

Lance grins and takes his hand. “Sure thing! Don’t worry, I’m not going to murder you. The woods are good for other things. This isn’t even the best part.” With that, Lance drags Keith to the trunk of the car and pushes it up, revealing a large red cooler. “Help me carry this to the spot.” He drops Keith’s hand in favour of hoisting the cooler out and onto the frosty ground. Keith only slightly misses his touch. (Only slightly. Definitely not a lot.)

The two of them haul the cooler into the forest. Keith admires the view as they make their way through. Tall evergreen trees in varying shades of brilliant emerald loom over Keith’s head and line a winding rock trail. The ground around the trail is lined with mosses, ferns and pine needles. A light mist hangs over the tips of the trees. Snow powders the greenery and glistens in the lingering light of the setting sun. Keith feels like he could stay here with Lance forever if given the choice.

The two of them trudge on for a while before the path suddenly ends. “What…?” Keith looks to Lance for guidance. Lance only smiles smugly before motioning for Keith to drop the cooler. They lower the cooler to the ground and Lance straightens up, placing his hands on his hips. 

“We’re almost there,” he states. “Just watch me and follow.” 

He doesn’t give Keith a chance to be confused before he veers off the path and straight towards a thick cluster of trees. Right before he walks into the trunk of a particularly large evergreen, he vanishes. Keith lets out a surprised yelp and presses a hand to his mouth. “Lance?” He calls warily. 

“Right here!” The blue-eyed boy’s response comes, not sounding very far away. Still, Keith can’t see him. _How did he just disappear?_ Keith puzzles, thoroughly bewildered. He takes a few cautious steps in the direction that Lance had gone. When he reaches the same cluster of trees he stops, confounded. He doesn’t see any way through. 

Suddenly, Lance’s head pops out from behind the thickest tree. Keith makes a strangled sound and stumbles backwards, heart pounding. “Don’t just _do_ that,” he hisses, clutching his chest. Lance only laughs, seemingly emerging straight from the trunks of the trees. Keith stares unblinkingly at him. “How?” He utters.

Lance stretches out a hand. “Lemme show you.” Keith takes it and is abruptly pulled straight towards the largest tree’s trunk. He cries in alarm as the tree trunk speeds at his face, and then it suddenly isn’t right in front of his face anymore; rather, right beside his cheek. He’s standing in a small space between the tree and another, barely wide enough for him to fit. He casts a glance behind him only to see more trees. The gap is completely obscured. 

“You can only see it from a certain angle,” Lance explains in front of him, still holding his hand. 

Keith stares. “That’s… really cool,” he admits. 

“You haven’t even seen what I’m about to show you, save that thought!” Lance tugs Keith through the gap and into a small clearing, and what Keith sees causes him to gasp softly. 

Sitting in the center of the clearing is a quaint wooden shack. It’s fairly small, but very well put together. It’s perfectly square with a pointed roof. Not a single plank of wood is out of place, despite how weather-beaten it is. A small path lined with painted stones leads to a bright blue door. By the door, a rickety bench with chipping blue paint sits. Everything is modest and cheery and Keith loves it the moment he lays eyes on it.

“Welcome to my bungalow!” Lance gestures in the direction of the shack, beaming. Waiting for Keith’s response. 

“Wow,” Keith breathes, eyes glued to the accommodation. “You _built_ this?” 

“Oh hell no,” Lance laughs. “I’m not _that_ amazing, Keith my man. You give me too much credit.” He lays a hand against his chest, preening.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Clearly.”

Lance continues. “No, I didn’t build it. I’ll tell you all about it once we get the cooler inside. Help me?” He jabs a thumb in the direction they’d come. Keith is reluctant to go, but he does anyway, leaving the small sanctuary and picking up the cooler with Lance. With some difficulty they manage to ease the cooler through the hidden gap and down the stone-lined path. They set it down in front of the door and Lance digs in his coat pocket, pulling out a small key. He inserts it into the lock and with a quiet _click,_ the door swings open. 

The inside of the shack is dark, but with the flip of a switch golden fairy lights strung all around the interior flicker to life, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the planks. The shack is thoroughly furnished; a small wooden table and two chairs around it sit by the door. A patchy blue couch has been pushed against one wall under a curtained window, and an acoustic guitar rests against it. A hammock littered with haphazardly placed blankets and pillows hangs in a corner. Nailed haphazardly to one wall is a line of small shelves, and on it are a matter of trinkets and toys; action figures, shards of sea glass, a small stack of tattered books, a jar of marbles, and several framed pictures of people who Keith have never seen.

Lance, upon entering, stretches his arms wide as if about to embrace an old friend and breathes in deeply. “I’m back, Blue!” 

Keith smiles at the back of Lance’s head, lugging the cooler under the table. He still can’t quite believe this little hidden paradise. _This is probably the best date I’ve ever gone on,_ he thinks before he can stop himself. _Wait, date? This isn’t a date. Get it together, Kogane._ Keith gives his head a quick shake before he turns back to Lance, admiring the soft, complacent smile on the blue-eyed boy’s face.

Lance turns to him, eyes twinkling under the lights. “My abuela built this place,” he starts. “Back when I was still in grade school, my parents and my siblings and I lived in this town, and every summer my grandparents would come from Cuba to visit. One year when I was nine, my abuela and I were walking through these woods when I wandered off the path and started exploring. It was how I found the clearing. My abuela was so impressed by it that she resolved to build a secret hideout for me here. It took tons of planning and begging my parents for it to work. We eventually got their approval and even roped my papá into the whole building process, too. Most of the construction was done by my abuela, though. She was so handy-still is. If only you could see the kinds of things she could build just from scraps of wood or metal. She finished the bungalow the weekend before she and abuelo had to leave for Cuba that summer. I’ve come here ever since, sometimes to read, sometimes with Hunk, sometimes to just… be away from it all, y’know?”

Keith knows all too well, and listens to Lance’s story with rapt attention. “Your abuela sounds pretty amazing,” he murmurs. 

Lance gazes at his feet with a soft smile. “She really is. I love her with all my heart.”

A comfortable silence settles between them, broken after a few moments by Lance. “C’mon, let’s sit and eat. I haven’t had dinner yet, have you? I hope you haven’t, because these are Hunk’s famous chicken enchiladas and you’re guaranteed to die forever happy after eating them,” Lance babbles, opening the cooler to reveal several Tupperware containers and a sealed pitcher of punch with paper cups and napkins. They take their shares of the food and sit at the table to eat. True to Lance’s word, Hunk’s enchiladas taste otherworldly. Keith and Lance eat ravenously in silence, too busy stuffing their faces to speak. After they’ve both had their fill, they recline on the couch.

They talk about everything and nothing. Keith learns more about Lance’s family in Cuba. He learns that Lance’s mamá and papá moved back to Cuba when Lance was a freshman in university to take care of his grandparents. He learns about each of Lance’s four siblings; shy Luis, boisterous Rachel, clever Veronica, and laidback Marco. 

Keith tells Lance about the years of taekwondo and kickboxing he did ever since he was a kid (“Holy crap, you must be ripped!” Lance had exclaimed, to which Keith had blushed furiously.) and speaks of his one hobby of art, indulging Lance with a few of his works from his phone after the blue-eyed boy practically gets on his knees begging to see.

Keith doesn’t know how long the two of them sit in the dim light of the bungalow, cracking dumb jokes and snorting at each other’s ridiculous stories, but by the time he next glances out the window, the moon is claiming dominance in the sky. 

“Wow, it’s getting pretty late,” Lance notices at the same time. Keith’s heart lurches with the prospect of leaving this place; the safe little cocoon he and Lance have formed inside this sanctuary, and whatever is in the air between them that makes all of Keith’s anxiety retreat far, far away. His indigo eyes dart around the room, looking for an excuse for them to stay just a little while longer, but Lance beats him to it.

“Ooh, do you mind if I play something before we go?” Lance asks, rising from the couch and picking up the acoustic guitar resting against it.

“Not at all.” 

Lance shoots Keith a heart-stopping smile before settling back down on the couch and strumming the strings lightly, adjusting the tuning pegs as he does so until he’s satisfied with the sound. He glances up at Keith quickly through his eyelashes before plucking the first few quiet notes.

The sound of the guitar is soft and tranquil, and Keith shuts his eyes, savouring the music. Then Lance begins to sing in an uncharacteristically quiet, melodic voice, and Keith’s heart just about stops beating.

_Sleep on me,_

_Feel the rhythm in my chest, just breathe_

_I will stay, so the lantern in your heart won’t fade_

_The secrets you tell me, I’ll take to my grave_

_There’s bones in my closet, but you hang stuff anyway_

_And if you have nightmares, we’ll dance on the bed_

_I know that you love me, love me,_

_Even when I lose my head_

Keith is inexplicably drawn in by the music, like a sailor to a siren. He feels himself drowning in the mellow sound of Lance’s saccharine voice and the rich strum of the guitar. Despite the chill inside the shack, a warm, snug feeling spreads from the top of Keith’s head to the tips of his toes. His heart pulses with quiet desperation like a bird trapped in a cage as the song continues, begging to be released. Even Keith can’t quiet it this time. 

When the last chords of the song taper off into the still night air Keith slowly lets his eyes flutter open, only to find Lance’s ocean eyes already gazing at him, fixed on his face. Keith doesn’t dare move, caught deep in Lance’s gaze. He feels like he could stay here forever like this, unmoving, letting the deep blues of Lance’s eyes engulf him. _I want to kiss him,_ he thinks, entranced. The blue-eyed boy looks ethereal under the golden glow of the fairy lights.

Lance inches closer. Keith is only distantly aware of it, mesmerised instead by the curve of Lance’s jaw and the freckles splayed across his nose and the smoothness of his skin and the fullness of his rosy lips and… 

Keith blinks, emerging from his daze. His eyes focus and he realizes how suddenly close he is to Lance. In a small fit of panic, Keith wrenches himself away. Lance blinks too, seeming to come to, and edges backwards at the same time. The both of them look everywhere but each other.

“Uh-You-That was beautiful,” Keith manages to get out after a hurried moment of expectant silence. 

Lance laughs bashfully, sweeping an unruly strand of hair behind his ear. He sets down the guitar with a small smile and turns back to Keith. “Thanks.” 

“How… How long have you been playing?” And then the conversation starts again, with both boys trying not to think about what might have happened had they not pulled away. Keith and Lance talk idly for a while more before Keith begins to yawn.

“Whoa, hey, it’s past midnight,” Lance comments with a glance at his watch. “Let’s get you home.” 

Keith doesn’t object as Lance pulls him to his feet and leads him to the door. He’s never been able to stay up late. “Wha’bout the cooler?” Keith mumbles as they make their way down the little path out the cluster of trees. 

Lance waves a dismissive hand. “Eh, I’ll come back for it later. There’s no food left in it anyway, no animal will tear down the place trying to get to it. I seriously doubt you’d be able to help lift it anyway, what with your current state.” Keith grumbles at the last statement and Lance breathes out a laugh.

The car ride back is unsurprisingly quiet. Keith gazes through half-lidded eyes at the blurred scenery out the window until Lance plugs in his aux cord and plays soft music in the background. It lulls Keith to sleep until they arrive back at his apartment building, where Lance gently shakes him awake. 

“We’re here,” the blue-eyed boy whispers when Keith cracks open an eye with a muffled sound of confusion. Keith snuffles a little and stretches deeply in his seat, letting out a final yawn before clambering out of the car. He rubs the cloudiness from his vision as Lance gets out after him and faces him on the sidewalk. 

“I… had a really nice time today,” Keith murmurs, cheeks rosy. He’s grateful for the dark that hides his blush.

“I’m glad,” Lance replies quietly. 

The moment, the whole night, feels increasingly intimate. It makes Keith’s heart race. He swallows audibly and says, “Well… I guess I’ll see you around, then?”

Lance nods. It’s almost imperceptible in the shadows that the dim street lights throw across the concrete. “We actually, uh… we run a Secret Santa at my apartment every year on Christmas Eve. We get together on the 15th for the name draw and the gift exchange is usually on the afternoon of the 24th. I think we’ll be inviting Shiro, Curtis and Allura this year, and… you should come, too.”

“I-I don’t want to intrude on-”

“-Oh, stop worrying,” Lance interjects. “We all like you, it’s only if you don’t show up that people will start questioning. Not…! Not that I’m saying you _have_ to come, of course, it’s totally up to you, but…” Lance trails off, eyes wide, at the grin that is forming across Keith’s face.

“I’d love to.”

“Great!” Lance returns the grin, albeit a little startled. “I’ll see you on the 15th, then.” He steps forward, wraps his arms around Keith in a quick hug, and gets into the car, rolling the windows down. “Goodnight, Keith.” And then he’s gone.

Keith lingers by the doorway, bringing a hand up to gently touch his mouth. He doesn’t remember smiling this wide in years. As he unlocks the door and makes his way up the crumbling stairs to his apartment, Lance saying _“Goodnight, Keith”_ and the beautiful look in his eyes is the only thing on Keith’s mind.

He is so far gone.

━━━

Keith takes a deep breath and grips the present in his hands tightly. He lifts a gloved hand and punches in Lance’s resident code. It only rings once before a familiar, peppy voice crackles over the speaker in the wall. 

“Keith, my man? Is that you?” 

Keith smiles softly. “It’s me.”

“Merry Christmas Eve! I’m opening the door. You remember the way up?”

“Yeah.”

“Well too bad, because I’ve come to get you!” True to his word, the elevator doors in the lobby open at the same time as the lock on the front door clicks and Keith pulls it open. Keith steps inside, shaking the cold from him, and looks up to see Lance smiling at him from inside the elevator. 

“You’ll never stop doing that, will you?” Keith laughs, stepping inside the elevator. 

“Nooope,” Lance smirks, shooting Keith a quick wink. Keith tries not to blush. 

The elevator ride is uncharacteristically quiet. Lance strangely does not say a word the entire way up, despite being usually so chatty. Keith sneaks a glance to the other boy, trying to determine what has Lance suddenly mute, but he catches nothing.

After what feels like years, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Lance leaves first, beckoning for Keith to follow with a tight-lipped smile. If he didn’t know better, Keith would think that Lance was nervous.

The walk down the hallway is deathly silent as well. Keith doesn’t dare to attempt conversation. Instead, he stares at the back of Lance’s head worriedly. Finally, they arrive at Lance’s apartment, with the trademark wreath on the door. 

“Here we are,” Lance says. His voice holds a slight tremour. 

“Are… you okay?” Keith dares to ask, but Lance is already pushing the door open, and the squeak of the hinges and the chatter from inside the apartment drown out Keith’s quiet voice.

“Uh, welcome back!” Lance exclaims, turning to Keith. “J-Just put your gift down on the table here and…” But Keith isn’t listening, because his eyes are glued to the ceiling. A ceiling that has a small patch of it _covered_ in mistletoe; made meticulously of papers and fabrics, sequins and cotton, ribbon and string, all fastened to a thin wooden beam taped to the ceiling. The contraption is intricate and breathtaking and it hangs right above Keith and Lance’s heads, and Keith knows all too well what that means.

Keith’s jaw goes slack and the present falls from his loosened grip. Lance darts out and catches it before it hits the ground and places it on the small table by the door with a short, clipped laugh.

“What is this?” Keith whispers, finally averting his eyes to Lance. The blue-eyed boy glances around anxiously before his gaze lands on Keith. He scratches the back of his neck and the beginnings of a blush creeps up his neck.

“Ah,” Lance begins. Keith is very still. 

“I… this is… I made this for you. For the, uh… the Secret Santa. I got you in the draw.”

Keith’s throat closes up. _No. No, no, no, not this…_ He thinks, stomach churning and heart racing. Lance barrels onward, unaware of Keith’s turmoil. 

“We-! We don’t have to… y’know… _kiss_ under the thing or-or anything, really. We don’t-we can hug, or just ignore it completely, be on our way with this whole thing-” 

It all sounds like jumbled gibberish to Keith. He feels like he’s underwater, distant. Everything sounds muffled, even his own shallow breathing. A wave of fear crashes into him and he chokes on his own breath. The only thought reeling through his mind is _Run._

So he runs.

━━━

Keith rushes out of the apartment building and into the biting chill, where wild flurries swirl and dance around him, buffeted by the wind. Keith runs out to the curb and signals a taxi that is passing by. Just as he’s about to clamber in, he hears the sound of rapid footsteps crunching through the snow, drawing nearer and nearer until they come to a stop behind him. Keith doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. His chest tightens until he can’t breathe and he grips the handle of the car door. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills Lance away, away, away.

“Keith! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Lance’s voice is panicky and desperate. “Please, look at me?”

Keith gulps, blinking away the tears that threaten to leak, and turns to Lance. He has to bite back a sob at the devastated look on the blue-eyed boy’s face. The snow whirls furiously around them.

Lance extends a hand slowly, expression pleading. It’s too much. Keith turns his back and opens the car door.

“Don’t,” Keith whispers, and gets in the taxi, closing the door mutely behind him. 

He doesn’t look back. 

━━━

Everyone pokes their heads out from the kitchen at the sound of the door opening and closing. Lance lets his hand drop limply from the doorknob as he steps inside his apartment. He is silent as he trudges to his room. He doesn’t look up to see the expressions on his friends’ faces.

A dull ache sits heavily in his chest as Lance shuffles onto his bed. “What was I expecting…?” He mumbles to himself. A hoarse, humourless laugh escapes his lips. “I’m so stupid. This was all a mistake. Did I really think he’d...?” 

A soft knock on the door causes Lance to lift his head. “Come in,” he says. His voice sounds dull to his own ears. The door opens and his friends all spill in quietly. Allura, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro and Curtis gaze at him with sympathy for a few trembling seconds before they all surround him in a tight, comforting embrace.

It is then that the tears come. 

━━━

Keith crashes through the front door of his apartment, kicking off his shoes and yanking off his jacket. He storms into his room but doesn’t make it to his bed before his legs crumple under him and he drops to the floor, gasping for breath and choking on broken sobs. He has never felt so panicked and alone. The shattered look on Lance’s face and his voice, pleading _“Keith, please?”_ resonate in his mind, over and over. Thinking about it only makes Keith cry harder.

He doesn’t know how long he stays curled up on the ground like that, whimpering and trying to breathe through the sharp, pounding ache in his chest and the panic that clouds his brain, but it feels like centuries before a soft knock on the front door comes. Keith hears the lock click when he doesn’t move. The sound of Shiro’s comforting voice saying, “Keith?” after entering the apartment pulls a relieved sigh out of the ebony-haired boy.

“Shiro,” Keith mumbles, holding back fresh tears. He hears his brother shuffling around outside the bedroom door for a while before it creaks open slowly. Shiro pokes his head in worriedly, and his expression softens when he spots Keith on the ground. 

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro sighs, crouching by the ebony-haired boy’s side. Keith takes one glance at his brother’s concerned face and breaks out in loud, gasping sobs again. Shiro is quick to wrap strong arms around Keith’s shaking frame. 

“What happened back there?”

Keith struggles to level his breathing. “I-I was _scared,_ Shiro, because there was… there was _mistletoe,_ and Lance looked so nervous under it, which was totally unnecessary because I _wanted to kiss him right then and there,_ which is the _problem._ So I-” Keith takes a shuddering breath. “-I ran away.”

“Why did you do that? Why did you run away?” Shiro asks softly. His question is not accusatory, and Keith’s heart wrenches at his brother’s quiet concern.

Keith lets his tears trickle down his cheeks for a few seconds before he replies. “He’s-He’s going to realize how underwhelming I am if we start… if something starts between us,” Keith begins tearily. “He’s going to see the real me, the me that isn’t interesting like he thinks I am. I’m so, so _afraid_ of that, Shiro, so I thought I could just keep my distance.”

Shiro’s eyes are sympathetic. “Truthfully, Lance might have gone a bit too far too quickly. You know how he is-he just cares so much. Too much, maybe. His heart contains enough love to fill an entire ocean, and he so desperately wants to give it to someone.”

“N-No,” Keith replies. “Lance doesn’t care too much. He’s _him,_ he’s amazing and perfect. I think I just… I think I just don’t care enough.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Keith glances up at Shiro. Tears rush from his eyes and form tiny wet dots on the carpet under him. _“No,”_ he whispers brokenly, desperately. “But I want to. And that’s what I’m scared of. I’m stupidly scared that me caring will only end with Lance leaving and me being _crushed,_ like how it’s been every time. So I’m just-I’ve just been trying to not…” He trails off, curling into himself. 

_“Keith,”_ Shiro murmurs, breaking the embrace and tucking himself by his brother’s side. “Those kids from the past… they weren’t good people. You deserve good people. I know you’ve been hurt over and over, but if you keep distancing yourself because of that, you’re not going to realize when there are good people in front of you until it’s too late. And Pidge, Hunk and Lance? They are good people. They are the kind of people you deserve, and they deserve you too. Because you, Keith, are a good person too, whether you can see that right now or not. If you don’t conquer your fear and talk to them, _really_ talk, they’re going to slip away. You may think that distancing yourself is the best thing to do for them, but it will only make them think that you don’t care.” 

Keith is stunned into silence. “Oh,” is the only thing he can whisper. Shiro is silent as his words sink in, and then Keith turns to him in panic.

“I’ve fucked everything up, Shiro,” he breathes. “I’m so stupid, why…? How do I fix this?” He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, seeing tiny dots flutter across his vision. 

“Start by talking to Lance. It doesn’t have to be right away, but don’t wait too long. Don’t let him go. Don’t let him leave thinking you don’t care. The universe doesn’t wait for anyone.”

Keith nods, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

Shiro’s gaze softens. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Shiro. Thank you.”

━━━

Christmas Day comes and goes. 

━━━

On December 26th, Lance makes a decision.

“I’m gonna do it. I’m going over to his place and apologizing.” Lance breathes in deeply as he halts his frantic pacing around the apartment. Hunk places a supporting hand on his shoulder. 

“You can do it,” he reassures. Pidge merely casts Lance a sympathetic look from their spot perched on the ottoman.

Lance makes his way to the door, throwing on his jacket and gloves and stepping into his shoes. He is halfway out the door when his phone begins buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out to find his mom’s number on the screen. “Why is she calling..?” He mumbles to himself. He presses Accept and lifts the phone to his ear. “Mamá?”

His face melts into horror at the next words his mother speaks. “No,” he whispers. His wide eyes fill with glistening tears. The fingers clenched tightly around his phone slacken. His phone slips from his hand and hits the ground with a sickening crack. 

_“No.”_

━━━

On December 28th, Keith makes a decision. 

He breathes in through his nose and punches in Curtis’ resident code. It rings only once before Curtis picks up.

“Hello?”

“Curtis, it’s me,” Keith answers. The front door of The Atlas opens with no more words spoken. Keith takes the stairs up to Lance, Pidge and Hunk’s apartment instead of the elevator this time.

Pidge opens the door when Keith knocks. Their gaze turns wary when it lands on him. “Lance isn’t here,” Pidge says. 

“I-uh-” Keith stutters, taken aback. Pidge shoots him a weary look. It is only then that Keith notices the dark circles under their eyes. 

“Where-Where is he?” Keith asks haltingly.

“He had to go back home. He left for Cuba two days ago.”

Keith’s heart beats loudly in his ears. “Did… something happen?”

Pidge’s expression crumples and they sag against the doorway. “His abuela passed away the day after Christmas,” she whispers.

Keith’s stomach drops to the bottom of his shoes. His heart twists painfully in his chest and he blinks away the sudden tears that spring to his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles hoarsely. _I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you most needed me. I’m sorry I let you go. I’m sorry I’m too late. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…_

Pidge glances up at him despairingly. “I know.” Then they shut the door.

━━━

On New Year’s Eve, Keith receives word from Pidge that Lance has arrived back. Keith no longer hesitates before sending the blue-eyed boy a text.

_Hey, I think we should talk. Meet me at the bungalow at 9pm tonight, if you want._

━━━

The night air is silent as Keith paces outside the bungalow. He checks the time yet again. 9:30. He should just give up and go home, accept the fact that he’s too late and he’s never getting Lance back. But a small part of him is stubborn, clinging on to the last shred of desperation in Keith’s heart. With that desperation is hope, just a drop of it; hope that maybe things can be fixed between them and Lance will forgive him, hope that not all is lost. Not yet. 

So Keith waits and he paces and he checks the time. 

9:35.

9:40.

9:45.

Right as the clock is nearing 10 pm, Keith hears footsteps clattering down the trail outside the clearing. His heart picks up its pace and he stops pacing, standing alert and very, very still. The footsteps draw nearer and nearer until they stop right outside the cluster of trees. Keith can hear slightly laboured breathing from the other side, as if they’ve been running. _Please,_ Keith thinks. _Please let it be him._

Whoever it is pushes through the trees and emerges into the clearing, and Keith almost cries in relief when he sees Lance’s face. It’s an exhausted, dishevelled, and worn face, but it’s Lance’s face nonetheless.

“Lance,” Keith breathes, taking a step forward. Lance doesn’t move. His face remains blank.

“Keith,” Lance replies, voice clipped. “Why did you call me here?”

Keith swallows hard, his heart pounding in his ears. There’s no backing down now. 

“I… wanted to apologize.”

Something in Lance’s face changes, and Keith takes that as a signal for the words to rush out. 

“I’m sorry, Lance. On that day, I-I got so scared when I saw the mistletoe and I realized that it was for me, for _us_ … and I panicked. I panicked and I ran away and I didn’t want to but somehow my brain was telling me…” Keith takes a shuddering breath. “...I hurt you. I hurt you and I’m _so sorry_ for it, Lance. That was never my intention. I _care_ about you, so much that it makes me afraid, and I thought distancing myself was the only way to bring everything back to normal, but it only made things worse. I was only protecting myself, not realizing how it would affect _you._ So I’m sorry, Lance, and I… hope you can forgive me eventually. Because I don’t want for this to end. It was _incredible_ every time we spent time together and I’m not ready to give it up, even though I’ve been an absolute asshole to you.”

It is a long time before Lance speaks. “I’m sorry too,” he whispers, stepping closer. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I didn’t… I didn’t realize what the whole mistletoe thing might mean for you and I just… I just rushed and barrelled forward without considering the fact that you might not be okay with it. I was just so… I had no idea that all this was going on inside you, and I can’t believe I didn’t catch it sooner. I was inconsiderate too, Keith, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And I forgive you. You… You know you can talk to me about the things you worry about, right? I-I care a lot about you too, more than you know, which is why I also hope you can forgive my actions someday, as well.”

Keith swallows the lump in his throat with a small, distressed sound. “I forgive you,” he chokes out. A dry sob finds its way past his lips. “God, we’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

Lance’s guarded expression collapses at that and he rushes forward, crashing into Keith with a tight embrace. Keith wraps his arms equally tight around Lance’s thin frame and they press flush against each other, both choking on tears. 

“I have a lot of fear inside me,” Keith admits, dropping his head onto Lance’s shoulder to avoid the other seeing his expression. “It’s why I always pull away. It’s why I never let myself get close. It’s why I live on my own. I always feel like so much _less_ when I’m around people I like. Nothing I say or do seems right or _enough._ Everything just feels so overwhelming and out of my control and I’m in a constant state of worry around people. I’ve conditioned myself to believe that everyone I meet will eventually get tired of the way I am and leave, so I put the distance between me and the person before they can leave me. It’s just so hard for me to believe that anyone would really care enough to stay.”

Lance is silent for a minute after Keith’s speech. Then, warm hands cup Keith’s face and lift it so he meets Lance’s eyes. Keith lets his tears fall quietly and watches the concern in Lance’s stare. 

“Keith,” Lance starts, “I don’t even know… Keith, have you talked to anyone about this?”

Keith nods wearily. “Shiro knows.”

“But Keith, why…” Lance swipes a thumb across Keith’s cheek, catching a tear. “Why are you so afraid of being left?”

Keith winces. This was the hard part. “If I tell you, I don’t want you seeing me any differently from before, and I don’t want any pity either. Can you promise me that?”

Lance nods soberly. “I promise.”

Keith takes a deep breath. “I… My mom left when I was seven without a single word. I was crushed when it happened. _My mom doesn’t love me anymore,_ I thought. After it happened, my dad became cold and distant. He stopped looking at me. And I thought, _My dad doesn’t love me either._ Shiro was the only one who remembered to take care of us. I was angry, and sad. People at school must’ve noticed, because all of a sudden there were rumours going around about me. My friends drifted away. No one would come near me, and that was when I knew that no one except for Shiro really cared about me. _I’m not worth being cared about,_ I thought. And that was when the distancing began.”

Surprisingly, Keith feels much lighter after having spilled his story to someone other than his  
brother. Lance, however, doesn’t seem as pleased. When Keith’s eyes land on the blue-eyed boy all he sees is a tornado of sadness and horror and fury.

Lance is silent for a moment too long. 

“Lance?” Keith whispers hesitantly. 

“You are so amazing, Keith,” Lance finally says. “After all that, and you still… you’re still so caring, so witty, so _you_ … you still find the strength to wake up every morning and continue with your life despite what it’s thrown at you. You still push through it all and keep going. You’re _strong,_ Keith, and I admire that about you.”

“See, this is what I was most terrified of,” Keith replies hoarsely. “You think I’m this great, capable person, and you see all these things in me, but if you spend more time with me… if you get closer, I’m afraid you’ll see me for who I am-an insecure coward who always pushes people away, who sucks at really communicating feelings, who-”

Lance cuts him off with a finger to his lips. Keith’s heart jolts despite everything. “Here we are, pressed right up against each other talking about our greatest insecurities and our darkest secrets, and you say we aren’t close? Have we not gotten closer? Have I not gotten to know you more? Haven’t you given me enough material to gauge whether I’m gonna leave you or not?” 

“I guess.”

“And Keith, have I left you even after the things you just said?”

Keith rasps out a laugh. “I guess not.”

“So what does that mean? It means that you matter. I care about you, Keith, and you have to realize that the only thing that makes someone worthy of love is if they are alive. You don’t have to have a perfect family and perfect friends. You don’t have to be a perfect person. You can be broken and bent and your life can be twisted and dilapidated, but it doesn’t make you any less worthy of the care of others. Those people from before were assholes. They weren’t real friends. People treated you like shit back then but not everyone is like that. Because I’m sticking around, no matter what. You could’ve asked me that at any given time in our relationship, before this conversation or after, and the answer would still be the same. I _care_ about you, Keith. Pidge and Hunk and Allura and Curtis and Shiro all do, too. You are loved so much more than you realize. You’ve been loved this whole time.”

Fresh tears spring to Keith’s eyes. It’s like a thick fog has been removed from him after hearing Lance’s words. _You’ve been loved this whole time._ He clings tighter to Lance as he sobs and wails and yells, and Lance clings back, rubbing circles into Keith’s back. 

“I’ve been so fucking lonely,” Keith chokes out through his tears. “I’ve lived on my own in that goddamned apartment for so long, and I’ve been pushing away people for so many years that it just feels like there’s this gaping hole in my chest, and I’m so fucking _sick_ of it.” 

“So live with me,” Lance gasps.

“Wh-?”

“There are a couple of vacant apartments in The Atlas, I can talk to Hunk about it if you’re interested; his friend owns the place and can easily arrange something. And, I know it’s quick and we’ve only known each other for, what? Two months? It doesn’t have to be right away, and… you don’t have to say yes. Just know that there’s a place for you that isn’t in a cold, dark apartment by yourself,” Lance rushes to say. “Besides, it was getting kinda cramped in there with Hunk and Pidge.”

Keith laughs incredulously. “Wait, really?” He asks.

Lance nods. “Yeah. The offer will stand until you reject it.” 

“Thank you so much,” Keith says gratefully. “Why are you so good to me?”

Lance only smiles in response.

It feels like an eternity before the storm in Keith finally calms. He sags against Lance, exhausted, and the two of them crumple onto the snow-covered ground, holding each other and letting the cold soak through their clothes. It is only after a few moments of comfortable silence that Keith suddenly realizes with a jolt where Lance had come from only earlier that day. 

“Your abuela,” Keith gasps. Lance lifts his head wearily. His ocean eyes are clouded with grief. “I’m so sorry,” Keith murmurs, pulling Lance close. Lance buries his head in the crook of Keith’s neck. His shoulders shake silently with tears and Keith lets some of his own fall as sadness settles deep into his chest. He can’t imagine what it must feel like for Lance.

“She passed away the day after Christmas,” Lance whispers, the sound muffled by Keith’s winter jacket. “It was just a plain old heart attack. She went swiftly.”

“Tell me about her.”

“My-My abuela…?”

“Yeah. What was she like?”

Lance sits up, wiping the moisture from his eyes. “Oh god, how do I even start?” He lets out a soft chuckle. “My abuela was the most loving and strongest woman I knew. She had a heart of gold and an iron will. She always knew what she wanted, had this clear idea of what she was gonna do next. And she loved her family so, so much. She had enough love inside her to fill an entire ocean.” 

Keith stiffens as he recognizes the same words that had escaped Shiro’s lips just days before. _I guess it runs in the family,_ he thinks tearily.

Lance continues. “Abuela was clever, too. Nimble with her fingers. She could sew as swift as a mouse and was able to knit just about anything you asked her to. And I told you how she was handy. She could build _anything,_ anything at all that you asked. She was the one who fixed all the leaks and cracks and broken things in the house. And she was the one who built the bungalow. She was just filled to the brim with joy, and love, and talent, and I grew up striving to be just like her.”

“Well then, I guess you were very successful,” Keith smiles softly at Lance.

Lance laughs again. “No way, man. I’ve still got a long way to go. But thanks for that whole thing. It… really made me feel better.”

“You know, when you aren’t always trying to show off you’re actually a pretty modest guy,” Keith remarks.

Lance places a hand on his chest. “Why, of course! I am surprised you have just discovered this. I am the most humble gentleman you would ever have seen at heart!” He exclaims.

Keith smirks good-naturedly. “And… he’s back.”

Suddenly, Lance’s phone dings. He pulls it out, only to let out a gasp at what he sees on the screen. “It’s Hunk. He says if we don’t make our way back now we’re gonna miss out on the New Year’s Eve party at my place and the countdown, and he’s right.” Lance holds the phone right in front of Keith’s face and his face slackens with surprise when he sees the time. 

“It’s 11:32?!” Keith yelps. 

“I _know!_ We have to go, now!” Lance screeches, pulling Keith up to a standing position after he springs to his feet, pocketing his phone. The two of them stumble out from the hidden clearing and return to the original trail, where they run back towards the edge of the woods. “THEY’RE HAVING FUN IN MY APARTMENT WITHOUT ME!”

Keith only laughs as he runs after Lance.

━━━

When Lance and Keith crash into the apartment, the party halts. Hunk is the first to rush to the pair with a tray of gingerbread men. 

“Hey, hey, welcome back Lance and Keith, I have no idea what may have just gone down between you two but it really doesn’t matter right now because it’s almost the new year and I made gingerbread men of all of us, including Keith so you guys have to try it,” Hunk pants in one breath, thrusting the gingerbread men towards Lance and Keith. Lance doesn’t hesitate before grabbing a gingerbread Keith and biting its head clean off. For whatever reason, Keith feels incredibly offended at the action.

“What the hell?” He asks Lance while taking a gingerbread man for himself.

“It’s revenge! Now you know how I felt when _you_ bit _my_ head off!” Lance retorts, spraying crumbs everywhere once again. 

“Okay, I know fun times are occurring for you guys right now but there’s literally two minutes ‘til midnight and you all have to _get the fuck outside to watch the fireworks.”_ Pidge suddenly appears by Hunk’s side and grabs Lance and Keith’s arms, dragging them to the balcony. Hunk quickly stashes the gingerbread men away from Pidge’s line of sight and follows.

“Do you guys do this every year?” Keith asks, once everyone is squished onto the balcony. Lance nods eagerly. “Sure thing! It’s a tradition. The view of the fireworks is amazing from here, trust me. Oh my god, I’m so excited for the new year. Are you excited for the new year?” 

Keith smiles. “Actually, yeah. I’m ready to leave this shitshow of a year behind.”

“That’s the spirit!” Lance throws an arm around Keith’s shoulders and pumps a fist into the air. 

“I’m glad you two are getting along again,” Shiro remarks from his position squashed between Allura and Curtis. Lance offers him a thumbs up and Keith beams. 

“IT’S HAPPENING!” Pidge shrieks, and her phone begins beeping. Together, everyone chants:

“Ten!”

“Nine!”

“Eight!”

“Seven!”

“Six!”

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The small party on the balcony bursts out into ear-splitting shrieks and laughter and everyone jumps around, throwing their arms around each other. Fireworks soar into the sky and explode into thousands of shimmering bits, flashing in the sky and illuminating everyone’s faces.

Lance turns to Keith. “Happy New Year,” he whispers, and then they’re leaning in at once and sharing a soft, sweet kiss before breaking apart to the sounds of their friends’ whistles and catcalls. Keith buries his head in his hands, but he grins through it all underneath. 

Suddenly everyone piles together to form a tight, clumsy hug. 

Keith looks at Hunk and sees a loyal friend, who cares so dearly for all the people around him, who bakes the best gingerbread men and makes the best chicken enchiladas, who would give up anything for the wellbeing of the people he loves.

Keith looks at Pidge and sees a steady companion, who won’t hesitate to call someone out, who doesn’t function until the afternoon, who is fiercely loyal to their friends, who pulls all-nighters working hard on their projects, and who has a big brain and an equally big heart.

Keith looks at Allura and sees a kind, loving woman, who treats all her friends with the utmost care, who always puts others before herself, who never fails to be there with a helpful word when needed, and who Keith knows will be a lifelong friend.

Keith looks at Curtis and sees a man of integrity, who is always there with coffee and a smile when needed, who knows all the right ways to make Keith laugh, who loves Shiro so deeply and cherishes him with his entire body and soul. 

Keith looks at Shiro and sees a brother who loves him with all his heart, who is his guiding hand in times of trouble, who always knows the right thing to say, the right thing to do, who helped convince him that he was worth more than he knew, and who Keith would cherish until the ends of time.

Finally, Keith looks at Lance and sees a boy with ocean eyes, who figure skates and sucks ass at Mario Kart, who has a hidden sanctuary in the woods, who plays the guitar and sings from his soul, who holds an ocean’s worth of love in his heart, who was the one to fill the gaping hole in Keith’s chest, who has the brightest laugh and the brightest smile, and who Keith calls home.

Keith looks around at this new little family of mismatched, disjunct people of all sorts he’s come to be a part of as they surround each other in one big embrace, and one thing is certain for him: he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

Because the universe doesn’t wait for anybody, but these people just might linger.

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title: “when will alex stop projecting herself onto characters? lmao never”
> 
> at last, it is finished. it was a wild ride boys, i compromised way too much sleep to complete this. i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! comments and kudos really make my day, and i crave constructive criticism. let me know how you felt!
> 
> [lance's song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsP8nfUWvao)  
> [lance's bungalow](http://www.sabaicornerbungalows.com/bsbp1.jpg)  
> i [tumble!](https://shakespeas.tumblr.com/)
> 
> have a memorable holiday season and a happy new year, everyone! ♥


End file.
